


Teach Me To Sin

by TheOneAndOnlyHades



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Asshole Thranduil, Don't worry nobody gets eaten, F/M, Knifeplay, Sexual Tension, Thranduil's a little creepy, Vore vibes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 08:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30052524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOneAndOnlyHades/pseuds/TheOneAndOnlyHades
Summary: The Elvenking develops an unusual fondness for an inferior human.  Unfortunately, that may not be enough to thaw the bastard's cold heart.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Thranduil (Tolkien)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Teach Me To Sin

**Author's Note:**

> My first work for this fandom. I normally don't go here. Shit will probably be wrong cause I only watched the movies. Feel free to throw shit at me. This is totally self-indulgent on my part.

> _Teach me to sin - In love's forbidden ways,_ _For you can make all passion pure;_
> 
> _The magic lure of your sweet eyes_
> 
> _Each shape of sin makes virtue praise._ _Teach me to sin - Enslave me to your wanton charms,_
> 
> _Crush me in your velvet arms And make me, make me love you._
> 
> _Make me fire your blood with new desire,_
> 
> _And make me kiss you--lip and limb,Till sense reel and pusles swim._
> 
> _Aye! even if you hate me,Teach me to sin._
> 
> _**ENTHRALLED by: Alfred Bryan** _

* * *

One would think it's all so pretentious. The distant sounds of revelry and boisterous melodies as dangers lurk beyond their borders. How oblivious the ostentatiously clothed and inebriated guests truly were to things. As the sun sets in Mirkwood, another feast is well underway with endless wine and loose tongues to follow. The dense atmosphere leaves an unsettling feeling in your bones.

Tauriel says you're quite odd yet insightful.

"You fought well today. I think we've earned our reward tonight."

The guard captain is intense and she is cunning. Huddled in a corner away from the raucous laughter and incessant chattering, she pours you and herself full goblets of wine from King Thranduil's reserve.

It's stronger. Spicier.

"If you keep giving me this, I'm afraid I won't be standing much longer."

"You've drunk this before!"

"Yes, and I still can't drink more than two before I'm stumbling over my own feet."

"And you're not stumbling... Yet..."

She pours more, then almost drops the bottle when you're both frightened by a looming presence with light hair. 

"I can't imagine you two are up to anything good if you're hiding in a corner amongst yourselves..."

Sighing in relief that it was only Legolas, both of your shoulders relaxed.

You silently toast and commence.

Tauriel finds your intolerance of Elven wines quite humorous, even after all this time. That must be why she insists on handing you goblet after goblet at every feast. Legolas recognizes when you've reached your limit and chooses an opportune time to began confiscating them before a disaster happened.

"I've barely given her any."

"She hasn't."

Legolas eyes the two of you skeptically.

An attempt to stifle your laughter doesn't go unnoticed.

He sighs as Tauriel does a relatively terrible job of sneaking another drink in your hand. He's quick to retrieve it from your grasp.

"How anything in these halls are still standing with you two in the same room is beyond me."

He made you swear you'd see yourself straight to your bed. _No distractions._

It was a lie, of course.

Having imbibed on far too much wine, stopping for fresh air on the empty balcony is a welcome respite from the crowded ballroom. The chilly air sent a shiver down your spine but felt soothing against your heated skin.

It becomes a habit. Escaping to the shadows of moonlight during every celebration.

When you stumble across the Elvenking also seeking a moment's calm, it's not impossible to believe even the reserved King Thranduil might occasionally loathe the company he keeps.

Most times you skitter away before being discovered. Others, your drunken sway, or loud laugh indicate your presence and then can't be ignored. Those times you apologize profusely and stumble the palace halls to bed.

_"One would think you'd be accustomed to it by now... If you had a modicum of self-control, you'd spare some of us the embarrassment of your uncouth behaviors."_

It wasn't the first time you've been mocked for it, but hearing it from his mouth made a distinct feeling pulse through your veins that couldn't be attributed to wine.

"Tauriel insists I will one day. I'm starting to think she just enjoys my change in demeanor."

\---------------------------------

_"Do you always take off during the night?"_

"Not every night."

_"Pray tell, what it is you're doing?"_

"I'm well trained with a blade but not with a bow... It seems I don't have a steady hand."

He offers a curt nod, steps aside, and allows you to proceed towards the fields.

\------------------------------------

"...An untethered soul that yearns for peace amongst starlight is seldom unsettled when they reach stars and they too, burn..."

_"Are you suggesting I'm untethered? Mad?"_

The cold, steady flatness of his words matches his stony gaze. The King has had others thrown in the dungeons for their insolence. Mindful of the repercussions of your words, you toe the line before you're possibly locked away to rot.

"Not at all, my lord. I meant no disrespect, just thinking aloud."

_"Perhaps burning amongst the stars is a suitable punishment for some."_

"Perhaps..."

_"With a mouth such as yours, I'm sure you'll meet a fitting fate sooner rather than later."_

"I will burn, but not fortunate enough to ever reach the cosmos. With any luck, on a pyre and thrown into the sea. At least then I can echo along the waves until the end of time. As a mortal, I'll be buried and long-forgotten..."

\---------------------------------

That was the drunken interaction that ultimately led to this clandestine affair. Who knew conjectural queries over one's afterlife would result in a strange liaison with the King.

Oscillating between trepidation and arousal, dwelling somewhere between a perverse symbiosis - rumpled sheets surround your naked form as the edge of your steel blade is nestled against your throat, nearly piercing the skin.

Nimble fingers grip the dagger's hilt with force.

_"Tauriel mentioned you favored this one."_

Silvery crepuscular beams of moonlight illuminate scant parts of the bed-chamber. The King feels this unusual arrangement is to be concealed in the veil of darkness. _It's for the best._ You feel bare skin between your thighs. His warmth is felt in places not yet claimed. It's the first time, you realize, that King Thranduil wholly unmasks himself. Clothing, intents, and facades.

It's a peculiar appetency that ignites the flames within him. King Thranduil's proclivities exist only within the shroud of his chamber. 

Many nights you've been on the receiving end of his lewd interests.

What started with juvenile spanking elevated to strikes on your bare ass with his staff. That led to blindfolds and being bound and whipped with other various objects. He takes utmost pride in his self-discipline. It's why even after such encounters you're still untouched. No one is deserving of the King's unwavering affections.

_"Do you surrender?"_

It's a clash of wills and both are vying to be the victor.

A perilous game that's been played and lost countless times.

Defiantly raising your chin causes the blade to skim too comfortably against your skin. The almost imperceptible twitch of the King's hand didn't sever the glacial gaze he's scrutinizing you with.

"Press down, my King. Slice until you catch the bone. I can assure you, that whom you seek won't be hiding under my flesh."

_"Do not speak to me as if you know what I desire."_

"We're wielding our weapons of choice. You have my blade, I have my impertinent mouth."

_"It's ill-advised to be as brazen as you are... A brutish king would have your tongue cut out."_

"Then I humbly thank you for your kindness. I know it's not freely given."

_"You will thank me...We can start with that wicked tongue. I would take great pleasure in seizing your strongest attribute. Then maybe those idle hands will be next? I hear appendages snap like vegetables when you bite into them."_

The blade deftly grazes alongside your face.

The unexpected weight of his body shifting to lay atop of yours is jarring, but not unwelcome. What's most unnerving is what is currently nestled against the private area between your legs. There's endless gossip amongst many an elleth and ellon alike about the King and his impressive asset. He undoubtedly has no intentions of bedding anyone, try as they might. You play the role he asks of you within the confines of his private walls but uncertainty has now jeopardized all the moxie you mustered prior.

Your heart pounds too loudly. It echoes in your ears.

_"Have you ever truly hungered for something? Something that no matter what you do, you're never sated?"_

"I suppose everyone desires things they're not meant to have..."

The pounding becomes an incessant static whirr. It becomes hard to focus, which could prove beneficial, considering your predicament. When you feel warm breath against your face, it's King Thranduil's stark eyes that captivate you. They're beautiful and terrifying, like a turbulent storm awaiting to drown unsuspecting prey in their depths.

"Where would you start?" You try to remain impassive, but the beautiful eyes staring into you are burning wildly with passionate destruction.

_"Perhaps the head, to watch you struggle and slowly suffocate. However, if I started at your pretty toes and worked my way up, I can see the fear in your eyes as you sink into me..."_

It was titillating how effortlessly he maneuvered the dagger up the expanse of your body without scraping an inch of skin.

"I think you'd prefer watching me watch you..."

A low mirthless laugh hums in his chest.

_"I think I would like that."_

"If it's what my King wishes, then I am honored."

_"Then I can keep you within me forever. You would always be apart of me."_ Blade now abandoned, his fingers trace the curve of your jaw. Complying with his order of restricted contact, the wadded sheets in your hands bear the brunt of your punishment.

He's unhinged.

He knows this - he acknowledges the reality.

But there's an invisible war that rages on within him.

He shouldn't _want._ Shouldn't be so selfish as to implore such things.

But you're so receptive and willing to pacify the monster that prowls under his crafted glamour.

_"Can you fill the absence in me?"_

It's an unreasonable plea when every soul pales in comparison to _hers._ And will forever overshadow all others.

Yet.

There's anguish in his supplication that makes you almost empathize with him. The fragility of his sanity may be as delicate as finespun glass and the slightest provocation may lead to your demise yet there is no fear...

Are you just as mad as he is?

Ragged breaths burn with each intake. Hearts beat rapidly in silent measure.

Would a solitary taste quell the voracious beast bustling deep in his core?

Would it thrive on your adoration or your desperation? Be nourished from your revulsion?

He chides himself for craving your touch. For allowing himself to be intoxicated from your indelible scent. For wanting to burrow into your pliant body because your cunt is tempting him in ways long forsaken. The vestiges of his self-control are gossamer fine and he's battling not to singe the threads.

He'd annihilate himself before surrendering. Or so he says. However, touch is synonymous with destruction, and his downfall lies in the sodden heat his cock is strained against. He can't risk an indissoluble bond just because he's being enticed by forbidden sentiments. 

But he wants. _It_ wants.

He craves to claim you. To make his home in you.

The residual wine on your breath felt like a private invitation. Interest piqued, vacillating between shame and lust, curiosity prevailed and his lips capture yours. The exquisite taste of your mouth pervades his own in unexpected ways.

His kiss is commanding. Possessive.

He tastes of darkness and vice.

The graze of his teeth awakens a whole new sensation. The formidable control he's anchored to shatters as your hips shift and sway. Open wet kisses trail towards your neck. Sucking, licking, and biting. He pushes forward in tandem and bites down hard at your throat, suppressing the growl that threatens to escape from his mouth.

He's crossed the boundary. He's too close. And he wants - _needs_ \- to extinguish the flames before everything burns.

But your skin smells delightful and your breathy moans are enticing.

Each one sounds so much sweeter than the last.

Every tilt of your hips brings him that much nearer...

He tells himself to resist. To stop before vast mistakes can't be undone. He has enough regrets.

When he grips your throat with enough force to cut off your air supply, you know better than to struggle. You wonder if he's feeling your pulse quicken under his deadly touch. His stolid expression is frightening even under normal circumstances and right now you're questioning your fate.

_"Get the fuck out."_

The King moved away as though you were filthy or diseased. The edge to his words was evident. You dress quickly and quietly having done this numerous times before. Eyes remain forward as to ignore his obvious disdain of your presence.

You're almost out of his chamber before his voice startles you out of your head and hands you back your forgotten weapon. That's not a conversation you'd want to be having with Tauriel about why your daggers were in the King's private chambers. You thank him, secure the blade back in its scabbard, and proceed on your way.

Pouring a full goblet of wine, the King stands proud in all his glory, watching as you walk away. He calls for you a final time.

_"Do not make the mistake of misinterpreting this as something more."_

"I wouldn't dream of it."

_"I would never sully myself by sticking my cock into an insignificant mortal."_

You meet the King's gaze with a wry smile.

"Sleep well, King Thranduil..."

With a nod, you take your leave.

Unbeknownst to you, his monster had provoked yours. He used you to stoke his fire and overlooked dousing your embers...


End file.
